Chapter 34 Freya
By dawn, not even Bjorn’s heat was enough to keep me warm, both of us soaked from melting snow and no salvation in sight.
It will be better in daylight, I kept repeating to myself as I shivered against him, sensation gone from my toes, my fingers spared only because I kept them wedged under my arms. Yet as the sun rose, it revealed that little about our circumstances had changed.
The runes that held our prison in place seemed impervious to the elements, and though I tried to wash them away with snow melted by Bjorn’s axe, the water only ran around them. My magic, bound to my touch as it was, could not help, and though Bjorn’s axe could pass through the barrier if he threw it, he could not so much as mar the runes scratched into the earth.
“I’ve never met anyone who knows as much about runic magic as Harald,” Bjorn said, leaning a forearm against the invisible barrier, eyes fixed on the charred remains of the trees around us. “Nor one who plans half as well.”
“He did not plan to leave us alive and yet here we are.” I held my hands over his axe. “So he’s fallible. He can’t predict everything.”
And yet no matter how I bent my mind to possible solutions, nothing worked. Frustration built in my chest, and needing to do something—anything—I leaped to my feet and shouted, “Help! Help us!”
“Save your breath, Born-in-Fire,” Bjorn said. “There is no one who will hear.”
Ignoring him, I balled my fists and screamed, “Help! We’re here! Help!”
“Well,” a female voice said from behind me. “Isn’t this an interesting development.”
I whirled, about to put Bjorn in his place for mocking my yelling, only for all words to stall on my lips.
Because the woman staring at me with eyes like frozen waterfalls was Ylva.
Dressed in a warrior’s attire with her reddish-brown hair in war braids, she stood with Ragnar at her elbow and several warriors to either side, all with arrows trained on Bjorn andme.
“When they say out of the frying pan and into the fire, this is what they mean, Freya.” Bjorn bent to retrieve his axe, then bounced the blade of flames against his palm. “Ylva.”
“Honorless traitor.” She spat on the ground.
“Ylva, if you just listen—”
“You are no better, you faithless whore.” She lifted her hand. “Kill them. He’s not here.”
Slapping my hand against the barrier, I covered our prison with magic, wincing as several arrows bounced off.
Ylva only snorted. “They are trapped, so let them die slowly rather than quickly. Those wards will hold them until they breathe their last. Come, we must continue our search.”
“Ylva, wait,” I called, unable to keep the desperation from my voice. “Harald is moving to attack Skaland and make himself king.”
“That is no revelation, Freya,” she answered. “Why do you think we fought so hard against him? If you’d held your faith, we might have held him back, but you were too busy spreading your legs for this one.”
“I ran because I thought it was the only solution,” I said. “Then Harald took me prisoner.”
“Do either of you two know what the word prisoner means?” Ylva demanded, looking between Bjorn and me. “Because I do not think you do. The word you are looking for is sycophant. Flunky. Minion.” Her lip curled. “You are Harald’s pets, not his prisoners.”
“Harald trapped us in here!” I couldn’t keep the panic from my voice because of all the people who might have come, Ylva was the most ill-fated choice. “Ylva, Harald deceived us! He’s—”
But she was already walking away, nearly out of earshot.
Desperate and knowing who she was looking for, I screamed, “Snorri is dead!”
Ylva froze.
“Freya, have you lost your head?” Bjorn hissed, but I ignored him as Ylva slowly approached.
“You know this for certain?” Her voice was unsteady, her jaw trembling, and though she’d never been any friend of mine, I felt a wave of guilt for the grief she was enduring. Especially given that it would only grow worse.
“Yes.” I swallowed hard, my eyes flicking to where the bloodstains were obscured by snow. “Harald took his body. Ylva, he’s a child of Loki. A shape-shifter. All these years he’s been keeping up the pretense that Saga is alive, using her face and voice to tell everyone that it was Snorri who tried to murder her and naming Harald as her savior.”
Ylva swayed on her feet. “You were supposed to protect my husband, at all costs,” she whispered, not seeming to care about the revelation of Harald’s identity. “You swore an oath.”
“I tried, Ylva. Truly, I did.” I leaned against the barrier, my magic still gleaming bright. “Harald deceived us, but that is not the limit of his trickery, I’m sure of it. We must reveal the truth of his nature to turn his warriors against him.”
Tears welled in her icy blue eyes. “Did he die well?”
It was as though she didn’t even hear me. Or was just beyond caring for anything beyond her own grief. “Ylva, it is your people Harald aims to make swear to him as king. You are the lady of Halsar and you are sworn to protect them. Let us out and we can help you.”
“Their lady no longer, for my husband is dead. Skaland’s king is dead.” She dropped to her knees, an awful wail tearing from her lips. Ragnar stepped forward to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she shoved his hand away and howled Snorri’s name.
“Ylva, where is Leif?” Bjorn had come next to me. “Where is my brother?”
“Do not name him so!” Ylva lifted her face, swollen eyes filled with sudden fury. “You betrayed your family and are no brother to him!”
“That’s his decision to make, not yours,” Bjorn said. “But as Snorri’s heir, it is his legacy at stake if Harald isn’t stopped.”
“The legacy is already lost,” she answered. “For Harald’s forces sailed directly to Skaland after the battle. His ships passed me while I was headed in pursuit of our own fleet, and I thought that he must have evaded Snorri’s ships on the strait. I believed I’d have a better chance of stopping Nordeland if I could find Snorri and bring him and our warriors back to fight, but a fishing vessel that witnessed the battle told us that Skaland’s warriors were lost to the sea. Dragged beneath the waves by black roots.” Her eyes fixed on mine. “Lost to you, Hel-child. Don’t think to deny it, because word of your power spreads like wildfire on the tongues of every merchant vessel that has recently been in Nordeland. I’d have to be mad to consider setting a creature like you free.”
I pursed my lips, understanding now why Harald had done nothing to hide my presence in Nordeland. Done nothing to hide my magic—quite the opposite, in fact. He was ensuring that word of what I was would reach Skaland so that they’d know that I was the one to blame when Harald used me to destroy Snorri’s army.
“Leif is in Grindill, which is inevitably Harald’s target,” Ylva said. “If Harald has not already killed or imprisoned him, it is only a matter of time.”
Bjorn cursed, then slammed his fist on the barrier, but my mind was racing. “Negotiate for Leif’s return using us.”
Ylva went very still.
“Harald wants us dead,” I told her. “We served our role in his scheme, and we are now his greatest liability, for we know the truth about him. The only reason we still live is that he was unable to kill us, so he left us imprisoned to starve. Let us out, and then trade us for Leif. We’ll kill Harald and avenge Snorri.”
“Why would I trust you?” Ylva asked. “Why should I believe any of what you say? How do I know this isn’t just a trick to catch me and destroy the last resistance to Harald’s rule? Because your word means nothing, Freya.”
“What about my memories?”
Ylva didn’t answer.
“I remember the runes used for the spell to capture memories and share them with others. I can use them to capture the memory of what happened here,” I said. “You can watch and judge for yourself.”
“Don’t trust her.” Ragnar’s dark eyes were grim. “They fight for Harald. This is a trick, my—”
Ylva held up a hand, silencing him and, for a long time, the only sound was the sea and the wind. Then she said, “You saw Snorri die?”
The muscles in my jaw tensed because I knew this was a risk. “Yes.”
“I want to see everything. Then I will decide.”
Keeping my shield up, I turned to meet Bjorn’s gaze.
“Do it,” he said. “She’ll see that you tried.”
But also that Bjorn had been the one to slay Snorri, and I didn’t think she’d be sympathetic that he’d been tricked into doing so. Yet what other choice did we have?
Sighing, I released my magic, the film of silver light coating the barrier falling away as I dropped to my knees.
“Put the first moment of the memory in your mind as you draw the first rune, and run through events that occurred, ending it with the final rune,” Ylva instructed. “And show care, for you may only capture a memory with this magic once.”
Nodding, I placed the moment I’d first stepped on this island in my mind’s eye, then began to draw the runes. My eyes burned as I forced myself to remember everything, drawing the last rune as I watched Harald and Tora disappear from sight.
“Step to the far side of your prison,” Ylva said, then jerked her chin at Bjorn. “You as well.”
We obeyed while Ylva scratched markings of her own in the dirt outside our prison, pressing one hand to them. “It will keep me from being caught by the wards,” I heard her tell Ragnar, though I noted that he also took a firm grip on her arm, ready to pull her out of reach.
“She’ll never forgive what I did nor should she,” Bjorn said softly, donning his mail vest. “But she will see that you are not to blame. If she allows only you freedom, take it.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Yes, you will,” he said. “Make a plan with Ylva to get my brother free, and then you can come back for me.”
There wasn’t a chance I was leaving Bjorn to die in this prison, but the moment to argue was over, because Ylva reached through and placed a hand on the circle of runes. Her whole body stiffened as her mind was filled with my memory, and I had to force myself to breathe.
“Saga?” Ylva whispered, then she shook her head, muttering, “No, please no.”
Guilt soured my empty stomach as I watched emotion play across her face, her eyes shifting back and forth, time seeming to stand still. Then, beneath her palm, the runes turned to ash and Ylva withdrew her hand, sitting down hard in the melting snow.
“My lady?” Ragnar gripped her shoulders. “What do you wish for us to do?”
Ylva didn’t answer, only stared and stared, and my heart raced, because what if watching Snorri die had broken her? What if my gambit had failed?
Then Ylva straightened, and it was like watching a wall being rebuilt, stone by stone, higher and higher until it was strong once more. She stood. “It is as they say. Harald is a child of Loki and able to take on the shape and voice of anyone he chooses to mimic. A trickster who takes great pleasure in making everyone dance to the beat of his drum, and his heritage must be revealed.”
She drew in a steadying breath, then fixed her eyes on Bjorn. “I know your actions were motivated by false beliefs put into your head by Harald, but I still find that I cannot forgive you for killing your father. He was the great love of my life, and part of my heart has died with him.”
I tensed, trying to come up with a plan for a situation where she agreed to release me but not Bjorn, then Ylva said, “Yet Snorri died trying to protect you. He forgave you. I will not dishonor him by allowing Harald the victory of your death, Bjorn, but in exchange for your life, I want your word that you’ll dedicate it to avenging your father.”
“You have it.”
Ylva gave a tight nod, then began to move slowly around the perimeter of our prison, etching markings over Harald’s, which disappeared with puffs of black smoke. Then she gestured at us. “Come.”
I exhaled a breath of relief, for though what would come next would not be easy, at least it wouldn’t be dying of starvation and exposure on a deserted island in the middle of the Northern Strait.
“I need to pull you across the wards.” Ylva held out her hand. “Harald’s magic is complex, and I could not vanquish it entirely.”
I started to reach for her, then hesitated, for I did not put it past her to let me out but leave Bjorn trapped as revenge for Snorri’s death. “Bjorn, you first. I don’t trust her.”
His axe flared to life in his hand, and with the other he took hold of Ylva, who pulled him across. He let go of her immediately. “Now Freya.”
Ylva reached toward me. But behind Bjorn, Ragnar lifted a heavy cudgel. “Bjorn!” I shouted. “Behind you!”
My warning was too late. The heavy wood struck his skull with a crack. Bjorn dropped like a stone, and I screamed, lunging, only to rebound off a barrier that seemed very much in place.
Ragnar and two of the other warriors flung themselves on Bjorn, binding his wrists behind his back.
“You didn’t really believe I’d let you out, did you, Hel-child?” Ylva asked, stepping back. “One with your power cannot be suffered to live, cursing the souls of those who deserve to join the Allfather to languish with your godly mother in Helheim.”
Bjorn was stirring, regaining consciousness, and Ylva glanced at him. “I’ll trade him for Leif. Perhaps Bjorn will manage to fulfill his promise and will put an end to Harald. Perhaps he’ll do it in time to come rescue you before you starve. Or perhaps your fate is to die an honorless death and join your mother in her realm.”
I screamed and pounded my fists against the barrier. Bjorn’s eyes opened, and he flung himself from side to side as the men dragged him up, his voice garbled through the gag they’d forced into his mouth. But I still understood what he said: Don’t do it. Don’t call her name. I’ll get you free.
“Bjorn!” I howled his name, but the name I wanted to scream was Hel’s. To curse Ylva and her warriors to Helheim so that we could walk free. But his green eyes pleaded for me to hold my tongue. Pleaded with me to trust him to win me free another way. And even now, that cursed oath bound me to obey.
My knuckles split from hammering my fists against the magic, and Ylva sighed. “I believed Saga’s foretelling meant you would accomplish great things. But all you’ve done is destroy. Goodbye, Freya.”
I howled as they dragged Bjorn away, then fell to my knees and sobbed. For him. For myself. For everyone who had fallen victim to Harald’s trickery.
Exhaustion finally took me, and I curled up in the driest spot I could find, knowing that there was little chance I would survive the night. That I would freeze to death, my corpse confined until the end of days in the circle of wards that boundme.
Clouds thickened, the sun nothing more than a faintly glowing orb behind them as it was chased across the sky, the wind growing bitter.
I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to give up, but there was no way out.
Tears leaked from my closed eyes, my shivers violently painful, and I knew it wouldn’t be long now.
“I love you,” I whispered into the wind, willing it to carry my voice to Bjorn. “Keep fighting. Don’t let him win.”
I wanted to tell him that I’d meet him in Valhalla, but Ylva was right: This was not a warrior’s death. And the knowledge that I’d never see Bjorn’s face again, feel his touch, hear his voice, shattered my heart.
Then a faint crackling filled the twilight, louder than the wind and the sea, and I inhaled the scent of smoke. Peeling open my eyelids, I watched a shadowy figure walking toward me, embers and ash trailing in its wake.
The specter.
No…I knew who she was—Snorri had been right all along. “Saga?”
Bjorn’s mother passed through the barrier, then knelt before me, green eyes seeming to glow from within. She remained a horror to behold, flesh blackened and burned away to reveal tendon and bone. Harald had done this to her, left her to burn alive in her cabin, and she still suffered that agony even in death.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “He fooled me.”
Reaching out, Saga curved her skeletal fingers around my cheek, but rather than feeling repulsed by her touch, I leaned into it. Took comfort fromit.
“I’m trapped,” I said. “Ylva is going to trade Bjorn for Leif, and Harald will either kill him or bind him as he has done to Tora, and there isn’t anything I can do. I can’t help him.” I lifted my face, a sudden idea occurring to me. “Can you remove the wards that are binding me?”
“No.” As always, her voice was harsh and pained, forced over burned vocal cords, every word agony. “I cannot.”
Saga’s skeletal hand moved from my face to take my scarred right hand, unfolding my fingers to reveal the tattoo across my palm. Hel’s mark, though twisted beyond recognition. “You are not wholly mortal. Her curse will set you free.”
Then she was gone.
I forced my numb body upright, staring at the twisted tattoo on my hand. It seemed like madness to consider, but what other options did I have? Better to die trying to live than to die doing nothing at all.
So I said, “Hel, grant me your power.” As magic filled me, I donned my chain mail, adjusted my sword belt, and then fastened my shield to my back. Marshalling my courage, I whispered, “I curse myself to walk the path to Helheim.”
The ground began to shake.